


The Girl He Only Met In His Dreams

by cornscornerofthings



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, F/M, bertolt is lonely, chance you may cry, references to many other characters, sorry in advance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 05:27:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18404036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cornscornerofthings/pseuds/cornscornerofthings
Summary: Bertholdt Hoover is empty. He doesn't remember the last time he felt alive. Every day is the same. Wake up, go to work, sketch at the park, then come home and go to sleep. The only time he feels truly alive is in his dreams. He dreams of this whole different world where he is whole and complete. He has dreams full of familiar faces that he's never seen before. And most importantly, he dreams of this girl. A girl that he's deeply in love with. But what is her name?





	The Girl He Only Met In His Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> (SPOILER WARNING, some manga spoilers)

He cried out the name of his loved one before his life came to an end in one final crunch, then darkness.

But what was the name of this loved one?

This was something that Bertholdt Hoover couldn't remember no matter how many times he racked his brain over it.

He spent the whole day trying to remember the name, distracting him from his work and even causing him to bump into a few strangers on the streets.

He just couldn't remember.

'She must be important' he thought as he sauntered down the cobblestone path, hands shoved deep in his pockets. 'Who was that girl?'

He mindlessly strolled down the path thinking over these thoughts before he sat himself down on the bench that he sits at everyday at five o'clock.

This was his daily routine. He'd wake up, grab a cup of coffee, rush to work, get shouted at by his boss a few times, get some writing done, sometimes do some interviews. Then, on his way home, he'd stop at the park, sit on that same bench, and sketch something.

He loved to draw. He had a sketchbook filled with hundreds of drawings of nameless people in daily life. He'd often watch the people around him, living their lives, and draw them. He didn't know who they were, he didn't know anything about them, but he thought they were beautiful, so he drew them.

That's what he did. He drew what he thought was beautiful so that they can last at least a little bit longer. So that they don't disappear before he can take a better look.

Today, he was studying a couple that was sitting side by side on the edge of a water fountain. The girl, whose bright orange hair was tied back in a ponytail, had her head resting on the shoulder of a tall young man with short dark hair, shaved down almost to the scalp. Her eyes were closed, a peaceful smile resting on her freckled face. The young man's expression matched hers. They looked so much at peace, simply enjoying each other's company.

Bertholdt wished that he could have something like that. He was lonely. He didn't have anyone special in his life, he didn't even have any friends. He had acquaintances at most. He wished that he could one day have someone to just enjoy one another's company with, but there was no one. He could merely draw strangers.

With a final few strokes of his pencil, he finished. He took a look at his drawing, admiring the beauty he was able to capture, before closing his sketchbook. He let out a deep sigh before standing and making his way back to his dreary apartment.

The springs creaked under his weight as he laid back onto his bed. He stared up at the ceiling, trying to memorize every pattern and blemish. He stared at it for so long that his eyes started to make up images into the dull color.

The paint strokes turned into constellations of stars and the blemishes made birds flying through the night sky. A stain morphed into a person, standing tall and brave with their fist crossed over their chest.

But then he blinked and it was yet again nothing more than a dull ceiling.

He let out yet another sigh before he turned and let himself drift into slumber.

_Blood._

_Joy._

_Violence._

_Laughter._

_Death._

_Life._

_Monsters._

_Friends._

_Hatred._

_Love._

Bertholdt's eyes shot open suddenly to find that he was in none other than his own bed, his legs hanging off the edge as he was too tall and the bed was far too small.

He was safe and sound. There weren't any monsters anywhere. There wasn't anyone who wanted to take him away to his execution. There weren't any life or death decisions needed to be made.

He was safe.

He let his body relax when he realized this before swinging his legs over the side of the bed and slumping his way into the kitchen.

That same dream kept playing in his sleep. It's a bit different every time and it's always unclear, but they all had to do with each other. Random images of people he had never seen before popping up in his mind.

He didn't know what they were or what they meant. All he knew was that when he had them, he felt something. He felt something other than the everlasting feeling of emptiness. He felt fear and excitement, he felt dread and he felt joy. He felt  _alive_.

He pushed his thoughts aside as he had to get ready for work. He couldn't let himself get distracted like he had the day before. He threw on a clean pair of clothes, a button down shirt and tie with some khakis. He grabbed his bag before rushing out the door and into the busy streets.

As he made his way to the new coffee shop that recently opened down the block, he couldn't help but let his thoughts wander back to his recurring dreams.

The previous night, one particular person was featured. He didn't think he had ever met him before, but he felt so familiar. The person, with a strong structure, short blonde hair, and confident eyes, gave him a warm, comforting feeling, almost as if this man was a brother or close friend that he's known his whole life.

"A-ah! I'm so sorry!" He yelped out after crashing into a random dark-haired pedestrian walking the opposite way. He cursed himself for getting lost in his thoughts. He knew that it would only cause trouble.

"It's alright," The person said as he took the hand that Bertholdt was offering. He looked up at him with kind brown eyes, a soft smile on his freckled face.

"No, it's not. I was distracted and I should have been paying attention and then I-" Apologies started spilling out of his mouth at a speed that was just barely coherent.

"It's really fine." The stranger laughed lightly. "I'm fine, you don't have to apologize."

Bertholdt clamped his mouth shut after he realized he was rambling. "Erm... Okay."

"You have a nice day." The stranger waved, smiling brightly, before continuing on his way.

"T-thank you, you t..." He stopped once he realized that he was now too far away to hear him. He let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping, before turning into the shop that the incident had occurred in front of.

The bell chimed as he 

pushed the door open, the smell of coffee filling his senses. A short young woman with orange hair tucked behind her ears stood at the counter, a friendly smile decorating her features.

"Hi!" She greeted. "What can I get for you today?"

Her smile seemed to be contagious as he couldn't help but smile back when he approached her.

"Hi, uh. Just coffee please. Black." He answered, clutching the strap of his bag.

"Sure thing." She said before turning to yell to the back. "Coffee! Black!"

"It'll be right up." She then told him, her original smile back on her face.

"Thanks." He gave her a quick grin before making his way to the pickup side.

A minute later, a tall man with long blonde hair tied behind his head and a goatee showed up with a hot paper cup in hand.

"Here's your drink." He reached across the counter and handed it to Bertholdt, who took it in exchange for the correct amount of money.

"Thanks." He said for the second time in a matter of two minutes before leaving the shop, the bell ringing once again as he pulled the door open.

His day at work wasn't quite as bad as the day before, since he had less of his boss constantly nagging at him. He was assigned to do an interview, so he was out of the office for a lot of the day.

He was interviewing some historian who supposedly had this whole new and interesting perspective on history and how it's being taught. Bertholdt couldn't deny that he was interested at first, but the more the guy talked, the more that changed. If he hadn't been recording the interview, he'd be screwed.

When he went to the park, there really wasn't anyone around for him to draw. A few people walked through, but weren't stood still long enough for him to capture their image.

After thinking about it for a moment or two, he decided to draw the man from his dream last night. He had remembered his appearance almost perfectly since he was so apparent that particular night.

As he sketched, he couldn't help but wonder who this man was. He didn't have the slightest idea, so why was he so important in this dream? True, you sometimes have dreams of people that you've only seen once by passing them on the street, but they're not usually this important unless they're someone you know. It just didn't make sense.

Bertholdt didn't know the answer to his many questions and could do nothing but wonder.

By the time he finished the sketch, the sun was starting to set and the air began to chill. A soft breeze made the page flutter as if it was telling him that it was time to go home.

He shivered before closing his sketchbook and shoving it into his bag. He rose to his feet before making his way back home, walking hastily as he was growing tired and was keen on going to sleep.

On his way back, he passed a bar. A group of men were sat around a table outside, talking and laughing drunkenly. A blonde man with a thin mustache calls the bartender, a woman in maybe her thirties with dark brown hair tied in a side ponytail, outside to order another drink. She shook her head disapprovingly, but was smiling as she poured the bottle into his glass. He gave a satisfied laugh before handing her a random amount of cash.

Bertholdt felt himself grow sad as he envied the fun that the group was having. He found himself doing this more and more lately, being jealous of strangers as he witnessed them having good times. It's been especially bad ever since he started having those dreams. Being able to feel alive and whole in his sleep made him long for it even more while awake.

Before he could stare any longer, he shoved his hands in his pockets, ducked his head down and continued on his way.

As soon as he unlocked the door to his apartment, he went straight to his bedroom and collapsed onto the mattress, not even bothering to change first.

He stared up at the ceiling and reached his arm above his head, mindlessly examining his hand. He noticed how it was unusually large, yet bony and how there was a bit of dirt stuck underneath his stubby fingernails. Cocking his head, he saw that there were lead markings all over the side of his hand from drawing and how it felt a bit sore from holding the pencil.

As he did this, his eyelids slowly started to get heavier and heavier before they finally fluttered shut and he was lulled to sleep.

_Soft blonde hair,_

_Pale blue eyes,_

_Pink lips..._

_She's always by herself, sitting quietly._

_Does she even want to talk to people?_

_Doesn't she ever get lonely?_

_She shouldn't be lonely._

_I want to make it so she's never lonely again._

The bright sunlight came seeping in through the window, making Bertholdt's eyes flicker open.

There she was again.

That girl.

That same girl that he was thinking about the other day. Who is that girl? What is her importance to him? Why does he care about her so much?

What is her name?

He finally rose from bed after thinking over this for several minutes. He put on a fresh set of clothes and headed out the door.

It was a Saturday that day, so he didn't have work. He decided to go straight to the park instead.

On the way there, he picked up a cup of coffee from the same place as the previous day. Instead of the ginger woman and blonde man from last time, there were two other men. One with short dark hair and the other with light brown. (The latter unfortunately didn't have quite the same charm that the ginger woman did.)

Since he wasn't in a rush, he decided to drink his coffee at the small shop.

He took a seat and looked around the room while taking even sips, the drink still too hot to gulp down.

In the shop, there was a girl drinking some sort of frappuccino, whose dark hair was tied into loose pigtails. Sat across from her was a young man with blonde sideburns, leaning over the table to talk to her.

A few tables down from them was a middle aged couple. The woman, whose black hair came just past her shoulders, sipped at a cup of tea as she talked with the man, with dark blonde hair and chin stubble, whom Bertholdt could only assume was her husband.

Bertholdt had finally sipped his coffee down to the bottom when he decided to head to the park. 

When he took a seat on his usual bench, a young pair caught his attention. A girl with fiery red hair tied into two unkempt ponytails and bright eyes was squatting down on the path, feeding birds with bread crumbs. A young man whose blonde hair hung over his forehead in between the eyes, stood back and watched her, a soft smile on his lips as he did so.

He took out his sketchbook after gazing at them for a moment and began to draw the exchange. He drew each detail carefully, making sure to capture the excitement and wonder that filled the girl's emerald eyes. He admired that about her.

After he'd been drawing for about half an hour (the pair had left, but he was still able to remember their image), he leaned back and rolled his aching wrist out, beginning to get sore from holding it in one position for so long. He then looked up.

The pencil slipped out of his hand and fell to the ground with a soft clatter.

Sitting on the bench across from him, was a girl, one leg crossed over the other with a book sat open on her knee. She wore a yellow sundress and pale green flats on her feet.

_Soft blonde hair..._

Tied into a bun, loose strands falling in front of her face, flowing lightly in the breeze and giving the illusion that they're glowing in the morning sunlight.

_Pale blue eyes..._

Looking down at her book, long eyelashes leaving shadows on her cheeks.

_Pink lips..._

Slightly parted as she reads the words on the page to herself.

Bertholdt felt like he forgot how to breathe.

In that moment, everything suddenly began to make sense. It's like a switch had been turned on in his head and he now knew the answers to all of his questions.

Bertholdt Hoover was dead.

He's dead and now he's living the life that comes after. If it was heaven, he had no idea. All he knew was that he was dead. He was killed and so was everyone else in this world.

He had a whole life before this one. A life that was just like the ones he'd dreamed of. A life where he felt alive, one where he  _was_  alive.

A life full of terror, violence, and hatred. One that seemed like hell.

But at the same time, it was a life full of excitement, happiness, and love.

He had friends that loved him and that he loved back. He was important and cared about and he didn't feel empty at all. He was whole.

And he was in love.

He was in love with this girl. This girl with soft blonde hair, pale blue eyes, and pink lips. This girl was what kept him going up until the very end.

The very end when he cried out of the name of his loved one before he died with one final crunch.

He stumbled onto his feet, the sketchbook slipping from his lap and joining the pencil on the ground.

His sudden movement caused the girl to look up from her book, her blue eyes widening as they met his.

"Bertholdt..." She breathed, staring up at him in shock.

At the sound of her voice, something was triggered inside of him. A sudden feeling that he hadn't felt for far too long.

Happiness.

Before he knew it, a wide smile was spreading across his face. He breathed out a laugh.

"Annie!"

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Thank you for reading!


End file.
